The Unlit Candle Insecurity
by SergeantFuzzyBoots
Summary: Bernadette is having a shaky time adjusting to motherhood. Mrs. Wolowitz might be the key to fixing that. Rated T


**So, a discussion over at Fanforum led me to want to write this scenario. I'm not sure I did the best job with it, but hopefully it doesn't completely suck.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except Joel and Ariel.**

Bernadette had been rather relieved when Howard had suggested she spend her weekend alone with the kids at his mother's while he was a few hours away for two days, doing maintenance on Stephen Hawking's chair. Now at eighteen months, their twins Joel and Ariel were more chaotic. The microbiologist had thought they'd been a handful during infancy with the midnight feedings, the enduring ages of colic, and the many messes they made. Now, however, as they approached the terrible twos, Bernadette was becoming more and more stressed and even more anxious. At least as small babies they lacked mobility; now that they were up and walking, the twins were capable of getting into even worse trouble and throwing all the more volatile tantrums.

She did the best that she could, but the past year and a half had been a difficult one. When Howard had brought up the topic of having kids again, Bernadette had been hesitant. Sure, the idea had initially appealed more when they'd babysat Cinnamon, but that hadn't exactly ended well, and they'd only had the dog a few hours before she'd scampered off. The microbiologist had done well with the guilt tripping, but it was simply that same, angry disciplinarian role she'd had when she'd looked after her siblings. She hadn't wanted that kind of relationship with her own children. Nevertheless, she'd fallen into it.

Bernadette was always reluctant to change their diapers, burp them, bathe them; she always preferred having Howard help her or, better yet, simply do those tasks all by himself. She just always felt so uncertain about how to go about mothering them, never before having dealt with children in a scenario where she didn't view them as the opposition. Being caring and affectionate like her own mother or Mrs. Wolowitz, even like Penny and Amy were now with their own kids, was a foreign tactic for Bernadette when dealing with children. It frustrated her, this incapability she seemed to have; she was fine treating people her own age that way, but the moment it was a baby or toddler she froze up, unsure and anxious. It put her constantly on edge and ultimately made her more inclined to snap when the kids became fussy. She didn't have fun with them like Howard did and she couldn't soothe them like Mrs. Wolowitz could; she didn't know how, it wasn't instinctual. The microbiologist simply didn't seem to have that maternal spark. There was just a worn out, unlit candle in its place.

Guilty as Bernadette felt about it, she continued in her ways, jumping at the chance to have Howard, Mrs. Wolowitz, or her own parents take over some of her responsibilities. So she silently delighted in thoughts of the upcoming weekend at her mother-in-law's. In any case, the twins loved visiting their grandma; she doted on them even more than she did with Howard, a feat Bernadette had thought impossible.

The first instance of messiness happened during dinner. The four sitting around the Wolowitz family dining table laden with heaping dishes, were working on one of the many courses Mrs. Wolowitz had prepared: spaghetti. Ariel had eventually tired of working on her meal piece by piece and had decided that bringing the small, plastic bowl right to her face was the better option. Noodles and tomato sauce had spilled all down her front and even managed to get in the light brown hair like her father's that had recently started growing.

"Uh oh," the toddler commented as she inspected her dirty clothes. Bernadette reluctantly waited for her daughter to look to her mother, expecting assistance. But she didn't. Instead, the little girl turned her round, blue eyes on her grandmother and said, "Uh oh, Gamma."

Mrs. Wolowitz was up in an instant, eagerly tending to her granddaughter, even placing a kiss on the girls' tomato sauce-stained face.

Bernadette couldn't help but be a little surprised. Joel and Ariel usually always ran to her with their messes or needs. It was true, she almost always tried to employ the help of Howard or Mrs. Wolowitz when they came, but they'd never skipped her in that process before. The microbiologist supposed she should feel relief at this, since that sort of care caused her so much anxiety anyway, but she didn't. Instead she felt almost ... hollow.

She tried to shake it off; this was just one time. Soon enough the twins would be clambering all over her and she'd be back to stressed and nervous. She should just enjoy this small break while she could.

Nevertheless, Bernadette found herself more than once glancing at Joel to see if he needed his face or hands cleaned during the rest of dinner. She needn't have bothered, though, because the boy reached for his grandmother first when the food stains began to bother him. And much to the microbiologist's confusing but growing dismay, it didn't stop there.

Mrs. Wolowitz was the one to hear to their cries for dessert, she was the one to change them. By the time she'd gotten them into the bath, Bernadette was seething. She didn't know why this bothered her so much. It shouldn't. She always felt like she was doing a terrible job when she did those things anyway and it wasn't like her mother-in-law hadn't given her a hand before. Except she was offering a lot more than a hand this time, more like two large, constricting arms that were making Bernadette's stomach twist uncomfortably.

Once the twins had their pyjamas on, the four gathered in the living room. Bernadette had brought a few papers along to read, but was finding it hard to concentrate on them. Joel and Ariel were playing with a set of toy rubber cars, a game they referred to as "toy carses". The microbiologist watched them carefully, body slightly tensed. The twins usually ended up maneuvering their cars over to their mother, treating her arms and legs as more road for their toys to drive on. Normally, this would put her on edge as she waited for the inevitable since it was such a hassle to explain to her children for the umpteenth time that she was not a stretch of pavement to be driven on. Now, however, she watched them tensely for a whole different reason.

It didn't take long for her fears to be realized as the twins began driving their cars towards their grandmother, the red and blue rubber vehicles beginning their ascent up Mrs. Wolowitz's legs.

Bernadette's blood boiled. She felt a rage and frustration that matched the one she'd experienced so many times while babysitting her younger brothers and sisters, but for the first time it wasn't directed at children. It was caused by a yearning for her kids, not the runny noses or the whines and complaints of her siblings that made the microbiologist want to stick their hands in a waffle maker. If anyone's hand was going in a waffle maker tonight, it was Mrs. Wolowitz's.

* * *

Bernadette felt exhausted the next morning. She'd barely slept, kept awake by her anger now conflicting painfully with her ever present anxiety over caring properly for her children. That and listening for the sounds of the twins crying. Unfortunately, they'd slept through the night, not requiring any soothing words to get them back to sleep. In any case, Bernadette figured she wouldn't have known the right thing to do anyway. At least not having to try kept her from failing her kids.

Now the microbiologist was tiredly making her way down the hall, still in her pyjamas, dreading going downstairs to see the lovely breakfast her mother-in-law was no doubt already feeding her twins. However, she was proven wrong when she encountered Joel in the hallway.

The little boy was out of his PJ's – meaning Mrs. Wolowitz had already dressed them, Bernadette reflected bitterly. Her son had on his signature green turtle neck, having wanted to wear them like his Daddy – they'd decided against informing him it was a dickey his father wore. Joel had rolled the neck of the sweater up so it covered his eyes and was giggling as he stumbled blindly around. It was only a second later, however, when the laughter turned to crying as the toddler tripped, shooting forward and thumping his head against the wall before going down. The boy began wailing for his grandmother, his anguished voice hardly stifled by the fabric still in front of his face. The pounding of Mrs. Wolowitz's footsteps was heard almost immediately.

And then it lit.

Bernadette rushed forward, falling to her knees and hurriedly pulling the sweater away from Joel's eyes. Her son instantly clung to her upon seeing his mother, pressing his face into her stomach where the tears and slime running from his eyes and nose squished against her pyjamas. Bernadette ignored this.

"You hit your head," she said, initially feeling stupid for stating something so obvious, but she was quickly encouraged by Joel nodding his head, not even caring now that her son's action was further soiling her clothes. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Joel simply whimpered in response.

"It hurts, I know," Bernadette agreed sympathetically. She placed a hand on his tiny back, a moment later moving her free one up to his short head of hair. His hair was coming in darker than Ariel's, still brown, but at times it almost appeared black. "Your hair's like Grandpa's used to be," she informed him, stroking his hair partly for emphasis and partly because she just felt she should.

Joel's cries diminished slightly as his focus on the pain became diverted.

"Dark hair like Grandpa's," Bernadette continued, both mother and son equally comforted by the fact that her words were helping.

Suddenly, Mrs. Wolowitz appeared in the hall, coming forward, arms outstretched as if to take over soothing Joel.

"It's okay, I've got him," Bernadette said, trying not to sound snappish, but unable to hide the challenging note in her voice.

Ariel was heard from downstairs a moment later, clearly not enjoying the solitude of the first floor.

Before Mrs. Wolowitz could so much as budge, Bernadette shouted, "Don't worry, I'll be right there!"

_"But don't you think it'll be different when the child is ours?"_

Maybe it was.

* * *

"Breakfast is served," Howard said, bringing a plate of waffles to the table. It had been about a month since he'd been away to help with Stephen Hawking's chair. "Your waffle, mademoiselle," he said, placing a cut up, syrup covered waffle in front of his daughter.

Ariel stared at it a moment before protesting. "No!" she whined.

The engineer frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Mommy!" the girl called, ignoring her father.

Bernadette, who had her back to the breakfast table and was pouring juice into sippy cups, allowed herself a smug smile. Howard had done the waffles, but not quite the way she did them. She never thought she'd be pleased to hear a child complaining that their waffle wasn't "how Mom makes them".

**So, there you have it. I wanted to sort of combine Bernadette's two view points from 5.12 with her hatred of children and babysitting her siblings and 6.22 with thinking about a family, but then being worried she'd be a terrible mother, and show how that leaves her with a rocky transition period to get through before she completely adapts to motherhood. I figured that after so many years of really disliking children even if she did warm to the idea of having a family with Howard it'd still be a big adjustment to get into a good place with her own kids. So, hope people liked this and if anyone has any thoughts about Bernadette and kids feel free to leave a review and let me know!**


End file.
